


Yet Hope Still Lives

by DKpsyhog



Category: TowerFall (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKpsyhog/pseuds/DKpsyhog
Summary: Towerfall is in danger. The heroes of ages past have tried and failed to stop the invasion of the Dark World, and now it seems that even with Pearl's help the Moon's power is faltering. Perhaps it's time for a new era of heroes to rise up against the King of Towerfall...//Thanks to some very kind feedback, chapter two is now in progress as of 21/02/13!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Yet Hope Still Lives

**Author's Note:**

> I took the liberty of naming the archers after their gems since they don't have canon names otherwise. I took a lot of liberties, actually. Towerfall leaves a lot to the imagination, ha, but that's part of why I like it anyhow and the only reason I'm writing this!

Peridot crouched in the nook where the sturdy branch of a towering conifer met its trunk. She shifted her weight on the branch and glanced downward at the dirt road on the forest floor some ten metres below. She wouldn't fall, of course; she'd done this countless times. Impatiently, she fidgeted with the hem of her tunic, adjusted the shortbow and quiver slung over her shoulder. It had taken longer than usual, but she was confident her target would arrive. They always did— every month on the same day. At last, she heard the rumble of wooden wheels, the clopping of horseshoes.

Peering down at the ground below, Peridot saw a horse-drawn cart moving along the road, coming in her direction. One man drove the horses from the front of the cart, and she guessed another was likely within, beneath the cloth-tarped roof. The driver wore an orange parka— the unmistakable garb of a royal soldier bound for the capital. A tax collector. She drew one specific arrow from her quiver: a red-orange unfletched bolt, its shaft covered in conical spines. As the cart neared her hiding spot, she dropped the arrow straight down. The instant the arowhead impacted the dirt, an explosion of luminous green brambles surrounded the cart, entangling the spokes of its wheels in thorned stalks. The driver exclaimed in surprise and scanned the area for his assailant, unable to dismount for the brambles. As she had predicted, a second soldier climbed out from inside the cart to join his companion. Silently, Peridot dropped from her perch and landed in a roll, standing up quickly to face the soldiers. "Alright", she began, smiling mockingly at her victims, "One chance to surrender?"

The second soldier's hand moved, and Peridot barely had time to register the hatchet soaring toward her head. On instinct, she lunged forth with inhuman speed and a blur of green light. Before she could think, she had intercepted the projectile, catching it by the handle. "...Of course not", she continued. "You idiots are all the same." The soldiers, visibly shocked by her accidental display of what was supposed to be a secret power, raised their hands in surrender. Not that it mattered in particular, as they were still trapped by the brambles and only had so many weapons to lob in her direction. Peridot walked around the edge of the glowing bramble patch to steal a glance at the inside of the cart. As expected, crates of agricultural and artisinal product filled the wagon's interior alongside a live chicken and a few of what may have been coinpurses. "And they call me the thief", she muttered. She turned back to the petrified tax collectors. "This is a good haul, and I'm in a good mood today," she said, "so don't tell anyone about this, and you get to live." In truth, she'd never killed anyone before. Not that the soldiers didn't deserve it, of course, but she'd never been able to bring herself to take a life. Just her little weakness, she supposed.

* * *

Peridot drove the cart along the woodland road, ferrying the goods to her destination. She'd left the soldiers unconcious on the road. If they were lucky, they'd wake up before another thief found them. The cart rocked and rattled on the dirt trail, kicking up dust as she sped towards the village of Thornwood. Stopping the cart just out of town, she pulled a small piece of charcoal from her boot and scratched out a note: _"For Thornwood. —Jay Wilde"_. Anyone who found it would know to return the contents of the cart to their rightful owners—no thief would dare steal something marked by the Jay Wilde pseudonym.

Leaving the cart behind, Peridot dove into the underbrush, distancing herself from the cart as she entered the village. She wandered through the labyrinth of wooden huts dispersed around the forest. Many of the buildings were built in the treetops, a few even hanging from the canopy. She made her way to the other side of town, where in the outskirts there lay what one might initially mistake for a natural escarpment. Slipping through a gap in the wall revealed its true nature—the outer wall of an ancient ruin. The stone floors and walls had evidently been covered in moss for so many decades that they were, from the outside, almost indistinguishable from natural land formations. On the inside, blankets of moss draped over the cracked and weathered stone-brick walls which formed the labyrinthine layout of the ruins. The various lofts and balconies of the structure were connected by walls and stairs, and looked upon crumbling and overgrown floors. She was hardly the only person to know about this place, but most left it alone. Peridot followed a path through the corridors, before at last coming to a small room from which a mezzanine overlooked a large portion of the ruins. In the corner, a worn bedroll was laid out next to an unlit candle. Her home.

Leaning on the railing of the mezzanine, she surveyed the overgrown site. It was then when she saw it: a flash of purple light from behind a weathered column. And another one, elsewhere. The source became apparent as more and more spiraling purple vortexes began materializing around the ruins. The sight triggered memories, and not relieving ones. She recalled her old master, Topaz, regaling her with his stories. Tales of legendary heroes fighting horrific monsters, of ancient demons and magical crystals, of glowing purple portals. As if on cue, monsters began leaping from the portals— blob-like slime creatures, cycloptic bats, and ghoulish spectres, among others. She raised her bow defensively, letting fly an arrow on impulse to halt the lunge of a nearby slime.

As monsters continued to manifest throughout her home, she shrank back into the corner, petrified. _This can't be happening. I can't do this. I'm just one thief._ Then she looked up, saw the rising moon peek through the dense canopy. _No, not **just** a thief._ She turned to the ancient wall behind her and tore away the curtains of overgrowth, exposing a small crack between two blocks. Diving her hand into the crevice, she quickly found her whole arm up to the shoulder squeezed into the hole, desperately searching the gap for the item she knew lay within. Feeling around, her fingers found wood. After struggling to find a grip, she pulled from the wall a small chest, no bigger than her hand, ornately carved. She had hidden it there years prior in preparation for a moment like this.

Lifting the golden latch revealed the box's interior to be lined with velvet, with five slots perfectly moulded to fit their contents: five luminous green crystals, shaped as elongated hexagons, glittering even in the dim light. Closing the chest and stashing it safely in the bottom of her shoe, she scaled the wall and ran back into Thornwood to purchase supplies for the journey ahead. Sleep would have to wait; she had heroes to find.


End file.
